


Michael x Reader Drabbles

by michael-obsession (AppetiteOfAPeoplePleaser)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppetiteOfAPeoplePleaser/pseuds/michael-obsession
Summary: A collection of drabbles that aren’t long enough to warrant their own fic.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Sleeping on your couch

Your eyes rove over your couch—and catch on a figure. Your bag slides to the floor with a soft thump as you stare, dumbfounded, at the sight before you.

He’s sleeping. Michael is sleeping on your couch.

You’ve never seen him like this before. When he sleeps, you are always pulled down with him. Never does he sleep alone. But here he is, looking positively angelic. His hard expression is softened in sleep, and his curly brown locks are strewn across his face. You feel the urge to touch them. Your gaze moves to his delicate eyelashes, then to his lips—you wish you could kiss them. Everything about him is beautiful, like a sculpture straight out of the Renaissance.

In this moment, with him looking so... defenseless—you can pretend so easily that Michael is a normal human being. That he is your boyfriend and tomorrow he will wake up and kiss and hug and _speak_ to you.

But the fantasy doesn’t last. It can’t. Too quickly, you see the grime, the blood decorating his clothes and skin—and now, your couch. Unshakable evidence that he has killed, and recently. And under the fresh blood stains, there are old blood stains, patches of faded red that never came completely out in the wash.

Michael is a killer. A cold-hearted murderer.

Yet you climb onto the couch with him all the same.


	2. Grabbed and bruised

You walked through your front door and was immediately grabbed by a rough hand, dragging you off your feet. Your front met his shoulder and you were airborne, staring down at the whizzing floor as it went by. _Here we go again_. You braced yourself for some kind of pain and/or trauma.

Your whole world flipped over, and suddenly you were staring at the ceiling. Your body was lying on something warm—oh, you were in Michael’s lap now. Laying across it, to be precise. He was staring down at you, hawklike.

His fingers hooked under the hem of your shirt and pulled, dragging your shirt up to your chest. A yelp came out of your mouth as the cool air hit your skin. Michael stared at your exposed skin with obvious interest, as if he were an artist deciding what to paint on a fresh canvas. His fingertips brushed your midsection and you jerked a little, strangely tempted to laugh at the slight tickle.

Some days Michael was quick, sudden, surprising you with his movements. Other days he would be slow, taking his time so that you’d know _exactly_ what was about to happen. Today was one of the slow days. His fingertips dug into your tender flesh, pushing down until you yelped in pain. Your body tried to sit up all on its own, and Michael slammed his free palm over your throat, keeping your head firmly down to the couch. You wiggled to no avail as his fingers dug bruises into your skin, pulling and pinching at the various curves of your body. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, too focused on the purple splotches that were starting to form under his abuse. Like it or not, you were along for the ride.

At least it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. _He’s done much worse_ , you rationalized, but that didn’t stop your little yelps and grunts every time he pinched a different area of your stomach. The warmth of his body under yours was nice, but how were you supposed to enjoy it with his rough hands wandering your body?

Abruptly he shoved you right off his lap, and you hit the floor with a solid thud. Your heart jumped in your throat as he stood— but he merely stepped over you and left the room without even acknowledging you were there.

Slowly, you sat up, took inventory of the damage. Big purple bruises littered your torso where his cruel hands had wandered. Moving around was going to hurt for a while. But instead of disappointment, you felt only relief. For Michael was often much, much crueler to you. Today, he had been gentle.

And his warmth against your back had, in fact, soothed a hurt you didn’t even know existed.

So you hugged yourself tight, and tried to pretend that warmth was still there.


End file.
